


want to fall, fall so far

by acrosticacrumpet



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, I've never written anything like this before, In case you couldn't tell, attempts at fluff, canon? what's that?, everybody lives au, in case you were hoping, no-one does the do, plus short fluffy epilogue for the win, the get together fic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrosticacrumpet/pseuds/acrosticacrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura looks at Hinata, and the nameless silent feeling in her speaks up, and demands a name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haruno Sakura is head over heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's like 11 works for this pairing what the FUCK
> 
> disclaimer: no experience writing anything like this, no real-life experience on which to base it
> 
> if you're still interested, then let us proceed...

 

It’s springtime, and Sakura is holding her breath, and it feels like the whole world is holding it with her.

 

She’s standing by a wooded training ground. The wind today is soft and cool, ruffling her hair, gently shaking the blossom from the few trees that have already begun to indulge in it. The rest have only just started putting out tiny, tentative buds. There’s a sharpness in the air today that promises rain later, but for now the delicate blue-white-gold of dawn still hangs over the sky, a gauzy veil through which the sunlight comes pale and elusive. A good day for new beginnings.

 

She’s standing by this training ground because this is where Team Eight usually come to train, and she has business with one of them – if that’s really the word for it. Hyuuga Hinata, she knows from that general store of information that exists in any shinobi village, is accustomed to get up early to train, and prefers to train here. God knows she’s always busy: for all that Neji is the prodigy in that clan, Hinata’s skill is beginning to gain her quite the reputation. With a medic-nin’s unforgiving schedule, this may be the only chance Sakura has to catch her for the next couple of weeks.

 

At age twelve, Haruno Sakura was too caught up admiring Sasuke – the boy with the perfect features whose every movement was sharp as a blade – to think about being anything other than straight. In hindsight she can see Sasuke wasn’t the only one she was crushing on at the time. Ino, now… Ino was _gorgeous_ , and so bright, so magnificently _alive_ , and okay, so maybe twelve-year-old Sakura had looked at her with something more than hero-worship. It was terrifying. Just another thing that made Ino intimidating, to the point where Sakura had felt like if she didn’t break away from Ino she’d be swallowed up. But she hadn’t realised it at the time, too busy being in love with Sasuke like every other girl in the class, all of them trapped in the pattern of the story they’d been fed.

 

Still at age twelve, she’d watched Hinata fight in the prelims of the Chuunin Exams, and for the first time a sense of some deeper feeling – not quite awe, but something very close to it – had taken over, so that it was the first time she ever saw someone who was better than her at something and didn’t feel fear. Hinata’s fighting was as beautiful as Sasuke’s, if in a quieter way (and really, Sakura thinks, she must have a thing about falling for fighters because in both cases that was one of the first things that attracted her), and her determination… Somewhere in Sakura something very quiet had started to grow. Nameless, and almost silent, but it was there.

 

And today is the day she is asking Hyuuga Hinata on a date.

 

It wouldn’t exactly be the first time she’s gone out for coffee with Hinata. During the three years when she was a genin without a team – working herself to the bone and trying not to think about how one teammate left because apparently someone _convicted of human experimentation_ had more to offer him than anyone who loved him, and the other one apparently felt like he was better off leaving _straight away afterwards_ than sticking around and trying to hold onto to the remnants of their team like she did, like she _always had_ because that was always her job – because apparently Haruno Sakura has never ever been good enough for _anyone_ –

 

No. It is a beautiful spring morning and she is going to ask a beautiful girl out on a date: now is not the time for all that old bitterness. Anyway, all bitterness aside, during those three years she actually did meet up with Hinata quite a bit. It always felt new and like a surprise, the way Hinata’s presence could calm her right down, how _good_ it felt to be talking to someone who liked her and wanted to hear what she said, someone she chose to be around. There was always something about Hinata. That nameless silent feeling. It was amazing, the way she could be lonely and angry and stressed and one cup of coffee with Hinata could make her forget all of it, and somehow she’d managed to get through _three years_ without even noticing.

 

Which is not to say that she didn’t notice _Hinata_ , because, well, Hinata isn’t exactly unremarkable. Quiet, yes: that doesn’t change the fact that once Sakura started really looking she realised she could happily look all day. Hinata’s got this _hair_ , rich and thick and shining, so dark, like a fall of silk down her back – Sakura used to think it was a shame Hinata never seemed to do anything with it, but then the style she has suits her so well, just…falling, like that, the simplicity of it hits you like a blow. Sakura still wants to style it and braid it like she and Ino used to do for each other at sleepovers, but she’s matured enough to realise that that’s really just because she wants to see how soft it is under her fingers.

 

And her figure is wonderful, too. It’s not necessarily something Sakura can put into words, just something about the way Hinata is put together, just the perfect height and the perfect size, like there’s nothing that could possibly be changed to make it better. Like the music on the imported CDs her mother listens to, Bach, Mozart, with every note in the right place and it seems as if the music must have sprung fully-formed onto the paper instead of being written. And then of course there are the things the boys notice about her. Sakura would be lying if she said she’d never noticed that about Hinata, but at some point she actually _looked_ and thought about it, thought about Hinata, with nothing on her but Sakura’s gaze, all that bared skin and…and all that _shape_ , right there for Sakura to touch... and _ohhhhh shit_ , she thought at the time, _this is going somewhere I did not expect_.

 

Favourite thing about Hinata, though, that has to be her smile. It’s slow and shy, like when clouds part slowly – so slowly – in the dead of night, and the moonlight creeps over everything… Sakura’s never been a poet, but Hinata’s smile almost makes her want to try, makes the nameless silent feeling in her turn warm like dawn over the sea. And one day she woke up, realised that, and thought: _oh fuck, this is so much bigger than I thought it was going to be_.

 

Well, maybe it wasn’t all in one moment like that. The realisation was slow: it didn’t really hit until the war. When people were dying under her hands, and she was up to her elbows in blood and guts and other things that belonged _inside_ the body, goddamn it, and she could hear kids her age and younger dying outside the medics’ tent – that was when the nameless silent feeling decided it was time to stop being silent, and demanded a name.

 

So. During that war, she swore that when – _when_ , damn it, not if – they all got out alive, she was going to ask Hyuuga Hinata out on a date. And now she’s standing by a training ground at an ungodly hour of the morning, feeling a little nervous, but more a calm sort of excitement, the wind in her hair and the air cool and fresh. Okay, maybe a little more nervous than she thought, judging by the vaguely frantic way she’s tapping her feet.

 

Thankfully she doesn’t have to do so for long: within minutes of her arrival, she sees someone – walking properly upright for once, so all the strength in that stunning figure is there to be seen, and Sakura knows it’s only because she thinks no-one else is around, and wishes Hinata wouldn’t hunch in on herself so much – coming towards her, long hair swinging. “Hinata-chan!” she says happily. She can’t keep the transparent delight out of her voice; she can only pray the nerves don’t show as well.

 

“S-Sakura-chan.” It took ages for Sakura to convince Hinata to address her with a little more familiarity, and hearing _Sakura-chan_ from her still sends a rush of warmth through Sakura somewhere deep, the deep place beneath the level of words. “It’s nice to see you, I don’t normally see anyone around here at this time of the morning.”

 

She sounds a bit nervous, like she’s afraid she’s done something wrong, and Sakura feels a little wistful tug somewhere, thinking that Hinata should never sound like that.  “I came to see if I could find you out here,” she says, smiling, hoping to charm an answering smile out of Hinata, or at least reduce the tension clear in her body language. “I was hoping to ask you…” Oh God, here she goes, she’s finally going to actually say it… “Ah, would you like to go out with me? For coffee, maybe?”

 

It came out a lot clumsier and more anxious-sounding than she wanted, but hey, she’s said it now. Suddenly everything seems very silent, even the wind, even the distant calls of the birds. Sakura knows intellectually that she isn’t holding her breath, but it _feels_ like she is. How many seconds has it been now?

 

“Ah, yes, I’d like that,” Hinata says at last, as clumsy and shy as Sakura was herself, and Sakura lets out a long breath. Yes, it worked, she’s in with a chance – and now she gets to have coffee with Hinata-chan, she thinks, exhilarated, and holds out her hand impulsively. Hinata, looking rather lost, takes it, and Sakura leads her on to the coffee place. She feels like she’s dancing over the ground, like there are stars beneath her feet. She should definitely have tried to hold Hinata’s hand earlier. Funny how such a simple touch brings such a wealth of feeling with it.

 

At their usual coffee shop, she steers Hinata gently over to a table instead of to the counter where they usually sit. She can see Hinata’s a little bemused by the choice, but, well, this _is_ a date, and even if they’re only going to the usual place Sakura wants there to be something special about it. The table she picks is in a corner, a little secluded. Every time she meets Hinata’s eyes, she smiles helplessly, and sees Hinata’s slow soft smile – always a little surprised-looking, Sakura thinks warmly – in return. This day is going brilliantly.

 

While she helps herself to one of the café’s sugary pastry confections (justifying it by the fact that a medic-nin with fairly small chakra stores needs to keep her calorie count up), she asks Hinata how her last mission went, by way of an icebreaker. Hinata’s as polite as ever, says it went well; Sakura coaxes her into being more forthcoming with cheerful questions until she’s waxing lyrical about the scenery and getting in little digs at some of the politicians she was guarding. Hinata’s got a very careful, quiet sense of humour, almost unnoticeable at first, but when you notice it it’s a delight, Sakura thinks, surprised into laughter for the fifth time. She responds with anecdotes about the politicians she’s had to schmooze, as Tsunade’s apprentice, and Hinata fires back with stories about growing up as the daughter of the Hyuuga Clan Head and watching him play politics, and then they do both collapse into helpless laughter, unsuccessfully trying to stifle their giggles. _Yes_ , Sakura thinks contentedly, _this is how I want to see her, this is how I want things to be for her from now on_ : relaxed and laughing and not thinking about any of the anxieties that keep her hunched over and silent.

 

Somehow they end up covering all sorts of different topics – their favourite times of year (neither of them can really decide, so that topic meanders quite a bit), the music they like (Sakura is thrilled to find out that Hinata was at the last gig at the Rusty Kunai too and liked the combination of electric guitar and glockenspiel as much as she did) – until any awkwardness towards the start is completely forgotten. Sakura makes sure to keep up the casual touching. She held Hinata’s hand all the way here: now she occasionally fixes Hinata’s hair from across the table when a few strands of it fall out of place, or strokes her hand. To begin with, Hinata almost flinches at each touch, but after a few minutes she seems to relax into it – although it still brings a faint blush to her cheeks whenever Sakura does it.

 

(Sakura suspects that it’s not just that she’s being particularly touchy-feely today: Hinata seems very unfamiliar with casual touching, the same way Naruto used to be. But Naruto had no-one when he was little, and Hinata had – should have had – an entire clan. Sometimes Sakura thinks she’d quite like to ambush Hyuuga Hiashi and show him exactly what kind of pain an expert medic-nin is capable of putting him in.)

 

Eventually responsibilities call: there’s plenty of work at the hospital for Sakura, as always, and Hinata had been planning to train before Sakura waylaid her. They leave the table reluctantly – “ooh,” Sakura groans, “I feel like I could stay sitting down for a _week_ ” – and walk away from the coffee shop together until the inevitable parting of the ways.

 

Sakura smiles, hoping she doesn’t look as anxious as she feels. “That was really nice,” she says, catching Hinata’s hand in hers again. “Would you maybe – like to do it again sometime, Hinata-chan?”

 

Hinata’s eyes flicker down to their clasped hands. “Yes, I’d like that,” she says, so softly her words are almost inaudible. “It was really n-nice” – she sounds so nervous, and there’s the shy smile and the blush again, as if she wants to say something but doesn’t know how – “to have coffee with a friend.”

 

 _Shit_.

 

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_ , Sakura thinks viciously. “Yeah, I thought so too,” she says, holding the smile on her face through an immense effort of will as she runs through a litany of expletives in her head. “I’m really glad you like having me as a friend.” It _is_ the truth really, even if right now it’s the biggest and foulest lie Sakura’s ever told, she insists to herself. “I’ll see you around sometime soon, then?” Calm. Calm. _Stay calm, Sakura, just because you got shot down doesn’t mean you get to take it out on Hinata._

 

Hinata nods, still looking at her with those timid eyes that seem to plead, to ask for something she can’t put into words. Sakura thinks she might cry on someone, or punch someone, or both. Either way it’s damn well not going to be Hinata-chan. “I’d better get to the hospital,” she says at last, _praying_ the edge of desperation in her voice isn’t audible to Hinata, and deliberately forces herself to walk away slowly, instead of running for her life.

 

They had a date. They had a _date_ , Sakura asked Hinata on a date and she said _yes_ , and then right at the end Sakura got hit with the “just friends” card. _Fuck_. Fuck Sakura’s fucking _life_ , fuck it to _hell_. God, if she didn’t want to go on a date she could just have said so at the fucking _start_ – except that this is _Hinata_ Sakura’s talking about, she thinks despairingly, she probably didn’t want to be rude or hurt Sakura’s fucking _feelings_. Feelings. Why does Sakura even _have_ feelings, why isn’t there some medical procedure to get rid of them or dial them down a bit, seriously, it’s not like she doesn’t know by now that having feelings is a _really bad idea_. God. She quickens her strides towards the hospital.

 

In a tactic she’s been using since the age of twelve or younger, she pours all her anger and frustration into her work. She can feel the pressure of Shizune’s eyes on her, but Shizune says nothing, which could be because Shizune respects Sakura’s desire to keep her troubles to herself, or because Sakura’s anger is resulting in a highly productive day for the hospital. It’s probably both. One very unfortunate patient makes a nasty comment implying that Sakura’s too young for her responsibilities: Sakura makes sure to give him absolutely no painkillers while she fixes him up. The resulting cries of pain are very satisfying. Tomorrow she’ll be kinder, calmer, tomorrow she’ll be able to think about Hinata without wanting to beat someone up and sob into a pillow, but just now she has to give her resentment somewhere to go, and she can’t very well let it out in front of Hinata.

 

The realisation doesn’t hit until she’s healing a deep wound, and when it hits her she pours so much chakra into the technique that the wound knits together in two seconds flat and the patient is left practically glowing with health.

 

 _Hinata didn’t realise it was a date_.

 

Sakura wants to throw herself against a wall. Several times. Unsure whether to feel ecstatic or more frustrated than ever, she ends up sprinting to a secluded training ground where she can destroy things safely. The way Hinata looked a little lost when Sakura held out her hand – her bemusement when they headed for a  table instead of the counter – her surprise at the constant touching – that look, that _look_ that said she was a little off-balance, that she didn’t really know how to react –

 

The pleading look in her eyes at the end. She _genuinely_ thought Sakura was asking her out just as a friend, she was trying to _respond_ to that. Sakura’s next punch hits the ground so hard it probably registers on the Richter scale.

 

In hindsight, she thinks, walking home with sweat drying on her skin and exhaustion weighing her limbs down, she wasn’t entirely clear with Hinata. Admittedly, she asked in the same way she’d once have asked _Sasuke_ , and had she been talking to him it would have been entirely clear what she meant by the invitation, but – well. Back when she was still attracted to Sasuke, everyone, including Sasuke, already knew about her raging crush on him. She’s never given Hinata any sign of anything like that. Besides, with boys a demure invitation for coffee is _expected_ to lead to something. Girls are taught not to think too highly of themselves, not to _assume_ , especially when the offer comes from another girl.

 

And this is Hinata, who’s probably never assumed that anyone liked her in her entire life. Hinata never felt able – very likely still doesn’t feel able – to rely on her _family_ to like her, why would she assume it in someone else? Sakura feels a sudden urge to either cry or punch Hyuuga Hiashi, and settles for felling a tree with one punch, instead.

 

Well. If Hinata didn’t get it the first time, Sakura is just going to keep trying. Something less ambiguous this time, she thinks. Maybe not a straight-out confession, not right away: she wants to give Hinata some hint that she’s interested before she tries anything like that, give Hinata a chance to reply one way or the other, subtly, so that if it makes her uncomfortable Sakura will know not to try confessing. Which is difficult, because Sakura wants to make a _gesture_ , something undeniable, something that will… that will _show_ Hinata, so she’s convinced.

 

Flowers. Flowers would be a good start.

 

* * *

 

Flowers mean going to Ino for help. This is not something Sakura particularly enjoys doing.

 

“Sakura,” Ino says slowly, her eyes practically boring holes in Sakura’s forehead. “You do realise most guys don’t really appreciate getting flowers from girls, right? I _know_ I told you that in the Academy.”

 

“This really isn’t a great sales pitch for the shop,” Sakura says, grinning. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling customers your flowers are bound to help them win over the person they like?”

 

“Screw the shop,” Ino retorts, “friends don’t let friends make fools of themselves towards the person they like. I’m trying to make sure you don’t let yourself in for major embarrassment.” The tinge of worry in her eyes almost makes Sakura less irritated with her, but given that Sakura’s just been through a day of emotional upheaval and she’s irritated with the world in general, it still doesn’t make her feel particularly charitable.

 

She sighs. “Just help me out with the flowers, okay? I’m not twelve, I do have _some_ idea what I’m doing.” At Ino’s doubtful look, she punches Ino’s shoulder – _playfully_ , she’s not that irritated. “Don’t give me that look, you –”

 

Ino laughs. “If you call me pig I’ll know you really are twelve,” she says, with a smirk. “Okay, so let’s talk flower meanings. Is there anything you’re thinking of in particular?”

 

“There is something…” Sakura racks her brain. God, she could remember this five minutes ago, where has it gone? “Gardenia seems like an obvious place to start.” She did actually pay some attention when Ino told her about flower meanings, back when they were both kids.

 

“Secret love?” Ino’s giving her that are-you-sure-you-don’t-have-a-head-injury look again. “I seriously hope you’re not thinking of sending these to Sasuke, because I hate to break it to you, but that love has never been secret. Like, _ever_.”

 

“I did _say_ I wasn’t twelve,” Sakura says, a little more bite in her tone as her annoyance starts to show through. “I know that ship has sailed. These are for someone else, in case you were worried, and as far as I can tell they have no idea.”

 

Ino just nods – perhaps picking up on Sakura’s mood – instead of pushing the point any further. “Okay, so, gardenia,” she says matter-of-factly. “That’s a good starting point. They’re white, so there’s not much they’ll clash with. Is there anything else in particular you want to say to the person?”

 

Sakura shrugs. “Throw some ideas at me.”

 

“This is supposed to be a _personalised_ bouquet,” Ino says pointedly, but she relents. “What’s this person like? What’s your opinion of them?”

 

Sakura lets out a long breath. Now there’s a difficult question. “Sweet,” she murmurs, eventually. “They’re just… really, really sweet.”

 

“Lily-of-the-valley,” Ino says automatically, and then she backs into a table with her hands over her mouth. “Oh my _god_ you’re in love with Lee,” she says, sounding as if she’s not sure whether to laugh or scream in horror. “It’s him, isn’t it? Oh my god. You know you don’t have to send him flowers to woo him, right? Seriously, all you’d have to do would be to go confess straight away, and he’d probably run five thousand laps around the village in celebration. Although I suppose he might be one of the _only_ guys in this village who’d actually be happy if a girl sent him flowers, but Sakura, seriously, _Lee_? Did it have to be _Lee_?”

 

“Oh my god _it’s not Lee!_ ” Sakura shrieks – quietly, she has no particular desire for anyone to hear this conversation – and shoves Ino so hard she stumbles into a large bouquet of violets. “Why would you even – I swear to God, Ino, _I am not in love with Lee_.”

 

“Oh thank God,” Ino says, with a sigh of relief. “I mean, obviously I support you so long as you’re happy,” ha, look at that backpedalling, “but if you really were in love with him, I’d have to wonder if you’d been brainwashed by the spandex, or something.”

 

“No spandex cults here,” Sakura reassures her, letting out a little giggle. “Can we get back to lily-of-the-valley now?”

 

“Right,” Ino agrees, back to professional mode now. “So, lily-of-the-valley, that’d go quite nicely with gardenia – it won’t clash, and it’s small and delicate, so it’ll add a little contrast. Not much colour there, though. Do you want to add something else as well?”

 

Sakura can feel herself blushing as she opens her mouth. “Well, since it’s the right time of year…”

 

Ino stares for a moment. Then: “Oh, _no_ ,” she says firmly. “Really, Sakura? _Really_? Cherry blossom from Sakura, do you really not get how _tacky_ that would be?”

 

“Well, it’s not as if I’m sending a note with it,” Sakura argues. “There needs to be _some_ sign that it’s me. This person can get pretty dense, I have to make things clear.”

 

“If that’s what it takes to make things clear, you should have come to me a _long_ time ago for dating tips,” Ino grumbles, but she’s smiling. “Pale pink shouldn’t clash with the rest of the bouquet. How much of it do you want in there?”

 

Sakura shrugs again. “Enough to make it prominent, I guess. I want it to be clear.”

 

“Just one or two, then,” Ino says thoughtfully, “maybe towards the centre.” She’s clearly getting interested in the bouquet now. “You remember what cherry blossom means, right?”

 

Sakura shakes her head. That little detail is one of those things she can be told a million times and never remember: it slips through her head like water through her hands.

 

Ino makes a scoffing, exasperated sort of noise. “I swear, I must have told you this a thousand times. It’s _gentle and kind_ , you airhead. Does that work for you?”

 

Sakura can feel a smile coming on like sunlight on water. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah, that works just fine.”

 

Ino stares at her again. “Oh my god, you are _head over heels_ ,” she says at last. “Whoever it is, he better treat you right, or I’m gonna take over his mind and make him list all his most unsavoury personal habits. In public.”

 

“You won’t have to,” Sakura says, the smile warm on her lips.

 

“I better not.” Ino is scribbling on a small notepad, really getting into it. She’s already constructing the bouquet in her head, Sakura can tell. “So who do you want it delivered to?”

 

Sakura tells her.

 

She has always been impressed, she reflects a moment later, by Ino’s ability to shriek under her breath.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t see Hinata again for a week or two: things are hectic at the hospital just now, for some reason, and whenever she has a little time to herself Hinata always happens to be on a mission. Sakura would think it was about her if she weren’t so sure of Hinata’s obliviousness. (Actually, she still has paranoid moments when she thinks Hinata is trying to avoid her, at which point she throws herself into her work and tells herself that whether or not her crush is avoiding her makes no difference to a genin with a dislocated shoulder.)

 

Finally, coming out of the Hokage’s office after a conference, she spots Hinata heading in that direction, evidently for debriefing after her latest mission. “Hey, Hinata-chan!” she says, breaking into a kind of half-run. She reaches Hinata, puts a friendly hand on her shoulder for a moment – that’s friendly, right? “Going in for debrief?”

 

Hinata nods, then appears to think better of silence: “It seems like the bandits were better organised than our intelligence said,” she says, with the slightest hint of that soft smile. “They’re quite far above C-rank now.”

 

“Lucky your team was sent, instead of more genin, then,” Sakura replies. “When you’re done with debrief, do you want to go out for coffee again?” Reassuring, keep the smile _reassuring_ – it’s not that she thinks of Hinata as, as a small child or a wild animal or anything else like that, but she knows how quick Hinata is to think she’s done or said something wrong and she wants to make sure Hinata never feels that way around her.

 

“Sure,” Hinata says, so quickly that she blushes, and then, “I’d like that.”

 

If Sakura keeps smiling for much longer the muscles of her face are going to start to ache, and she doesn’t even mind. “I’ll just be in the library,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, okay?”

 

Once in the library, she tries to distract herself with a text on the possible science behind medical miracles of the pre-Village era, which would be fascinating under any other circumstances, but instead she finds herself collapsed against a shelf, giggling uncontrollably with a hand clapped to her mouth. It’s not even a _date_ , for God’s sake, Hinata just agreed to go have coffee as friends and she’s _still_ ridiculously excited. And nervous. And even more excited. She might be finally going to find out how Hinata reacted to the flowers, and the thought makes her feel so shaky that for the first time since she was twelve she really understands why people talk about ‘having butterflies’.

 

Hinata finds her after about fifteen agonising minutes of waiting, and they head for the usual coffee shop. To Sakura’s slight shock, Hinata heads straight for a table rather than for the counter. She must have taken note of it last time, and either decided she preferred it this way or – which is more likely – that she’d sit there from now on because it made Sakura happier. Sakura feels that rush of warmth again. How is any human being that genuinely _sweet_?

 

“So, you’ve been pretty busy with missions lately,” she says, sipping at her coffee. Glorious caffeine. “That one with the bandits must have been a long one.”

 

“It was,” Hinata agrees quietly. Sakura takes one look at the set of her shoulders and her downcast eyes and decides to change the subject: Hinata clearly has no wish to talk about it just now. Bandit groups can get pretty brutal sometimes, and especially this one: it’s at least half the reason it’s survived this long in the first place. She can’t blame Hinata for not wanting to go over the details of it all over again when she’s just got back.

 

“But you’re just out of debrief, you must be pretty sick of talking about missions,” she says, and carefully ignores the way Hinata almost-imperceptibly relaxes. “It’s been work, work, work for me as well, we’re swamped at the hospital just now.”

 

“Th-that must be tiring,” Hinata says, so Sakura recounts anecdotes from the past two weeks for her entertainment: the stubborn genin who had to come back in the day after her previous visit because she’d gone straight back to D-ranks after Sakura had told her not to and injured her arm again; the jounin with the senbon through his ear that he couldn’t get out and wouldn’t tell anyone the origin of; the poisoned chuunin who had thought Sakura was a walking, talking stick of pocky and reacted accordingly, i.e. with extreme terror. About halfway through the pocky story they both end up crying with laughter.

 

“So,” she says, when they’ve both recovered enough not to burst into another round of giggles whenever they try to speak, “leaving aside missions, what’s been going on in your life lately?”

 

“Leaving aside missions, not very much,” Hinata admits – “oh, but,” her face has broken into a shy excited smile and Sakura is _charmed_ , “I forgot to tell you – someone sent me flowers!”

 

“That’s great, Hinata-chan!” and she’s not even thinking to keep the joy out of her voice, because _Hinata liked the flowers_ , Hinata is smiling like she’s got the best secret in the world because Sakura sent her flowers. “What are they like? Do you have any idea who sent them?”

 

“They’re lovely,” Hinata says, and the note of soft wonder in her voice tells Sakura more than anyone else gushing over them would. “Gardenia, and cherry blossom, and lily-of-the-valley. I, ah…” – she sounds almost embarrassed – “I looked up their meanings.” Dear God, but she sounds shy about that last. It’s like she thinks it makes her sound conceited or something.

 

“And?” Sakura doesn’t bother to keep the excitement out of her voice.

 

“Well, gardenia means secret love,” Hinata says slowly, “and cherry blossom means gentle, or kind, and lily-of-the-valley means sweet.” Her smile’s faded, but there’s still that wonder in her eyes. “But I don’t have any idea at all who sent them.” Here the wonder gives way to sheer confusion.

 

For a moment Sakura _really_ wants to punch something. Hinata _has_ to know she’s not unattractive, has to know it’s not that unlikely that someone would send her flowers, even if she hasn’t guessed who it really was. That look of confusion – that comes from honestly not believing anyone would want her, from years of knowing she wasn’t good enough for anyone. God _damn_ it. Sakura wonders if it would be easier to get away with beating up Neji than beating up Hyuuga Hiashi.

 

“There aren’t any clues?” she says, rather than voice this wish. “I mean, there’s nothing in the choice of flowers, or anything like that, that would give you a hint?”

 

Hinata looks resolutely baffled. “I don’t think so,” she says, “but you could come and have a look at them, if you like.”

 

Sakura spends the journey to the Hyuuga clan compound thinking about subtle ways to point out the prominence of the cherry blossom. The trouble is that the feeling of Hinata’s hand held in hers – Operation Casual Touching is a go, thank you very much – sends her thoughts scattering like startled birds in all directions.

 

The flowers have been carefully placed in a vase, and look as fresh as they did in the shop – if Hinata hasn’t been around to take care of them, she must have asked someone else to do it. It looks like the original arrangement has been preserved. Ino did as she said she would, and put in only a little cherry blossom towards the centre: somehow the arrangement makes them prominent, the most noticeable thing in it, without detracting from the overall cohesive impression of the bouquet. Sakura takes a good look at it, imagines Hinata getting it, shy smile and eyes alight.

 

“I don’t know about you, but there isn’t very much cherry blossom in there as far as I can see,” she says, hoping her ability to be subtle has improved since she was twelve. “And it seems pretty central, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes, it does,” Hinata agrees, in a tone that tells Sakura she’d already noticed that. So it’s not that the arrangement was too subtle, it’s that it really hasn’t occurred to Hinata. There are two possible reasons for this: that Sakura is a girl, or that Hinata honestly thinks so lowly of herself that she has no idea of _anyone_ wanting to send her flowers. Sakura doesn’t know which is worse.

 

“So do you think there might be a double meaning with the cherry blossom?” she prompts gently.

 

Hinata’s eyes turn distant: she’s thinking. “The…intensity and impermanence of life?” she hazards, sounding a little bewildered. Then a thought seems to hit her. “Oh – what if the person is someone who thinks they might not come back from their next mission?” She looks very much distressed by the idea.

 

 _Well, shit_ , Sakura thinks, with a tinge of amused affection. “I’m sure that’s not it, Hinata-chan,” she says, in the brightest tone she can manage. “If it had been, they would have come and confessed to you themselves, right? Or at least sent a note along with the flowers. Most likely they just wanted to emphasise how gentle and kind they think you are.”

 

Hinata agrees that Sakura is probably right, but she still looks a little sad.   _Come on, Sakura, now is the time to tell her it was you…_

 

In one of the most shameful acts of cowardice of her life, Sakura changes the subject.

 

* * *

 

“You have no brain,” Ino says simply, as Sakura resists the urge to bang her head against the wall and slumps over the table instead. “No brain at all. Your skull is empty. Nothing in there. It's like you're actively _trying_ to be dense. You have now reached the same level of uselessness as wearing sandals in winter.”

 

Sakura lifts her head wearily from the table. “Tell me something I don’t know,” she snaps. “I came here to see if you could make me feel better, not criticise my wooing technique.”

 

“Your wooing technique needs all the criticism it can get,” Ino says, passing Sakura another biscuit. “But anyway, there’s only one cure for these symptoms.”

 

Sakura grins half-heartedly at her. “What do you prescribe, O learned doctor?”

 

Ino’s answering grin is not in the least half-hearted. “Retail therapy.”

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Sakura groans, but she lets Ino drag her out to Ino’s favourite store anyway. Ino makes her try on at least five dresses, parade around in them, and pick one – and it takes a lot of haggling on Sakura’s part to talk her down to one – before she will let Sakura have a break. To Sakura’s surprise, the temporary high of a new purchase leaves her glowing, despite how low she felt about five minutes ago. She browses through the store while Ino picks out more possible acquisitions (evidently intent on emptying Sakura’s purse entirely). That’s when she sees it.

 

It hangs amid a display of scarves. Sakura is just trying to figure out what material the scarves are made of – they seem delicate at a distance, but from close up they’re warm and soft – when she notices it: a pale white with hints of shining pink depending on the light, and a delicate pattern picked out on it in pale pink and green, arching sprays of cherry blossom.

 

The thought crosses her mind of how it’s still pretty cold, despite the onset of spring, and she’s seen Hinata shivering… and then she thinks of how nice Hinata would look muffled up in this scarf, the pale pink bringing out an answering shade in her own skin, and all the gentle colours setting off her rich dark hair.

 

That decides it. She examines the price tag – “No more clothes, Ino,” she calls over to the still-browsing Ino, and takes the scarf to the counter to pay for it. Now the only question is how to get it to Hinata in secret. The postal service seems a rather banal method, and Sakura may not be twelve any more but there’s some romantic left in her still. On the other hand, just leaving it at her door isn’t really an option when Hinata lives in the Hyuuga compound – this is supposed to be a gift from a secret admirer, after all. Now, if they were still in the Academy, she could just slip this into Hinata’s locker… Most ninja do actually have work lockers in the Hokage building, but they’re not particularly secure and Sakura wants to make _sure_ the present gets to Hinata safely.

 

“Messenger hawk,” is Ino’s simple solution. “More romantic than the post, and it gives you anonymity.”

 

Sakura stares at her, momentarily speechless. “What the _hell_?” she hisses, as soon as her voice comes back. “ _Messenger_ – Ino, I can’t use an _official messenger hawk_ to send a _love_ _note_!”

 

“Bullshit,” Ino counters succinctly. “First off, it’s a scarf, not a love note, and second, I know for a fact Genma’s been using them to prank people for _years_. You’re the Hokage’s apprentice, no-one’s going to question it if you need to use one, or think that you’re using it for anything other than business.”

 

Sakura stares a moment longer, and finds herself bursting into laughter at the realisation that she actually is going to use an official messenger hawk to play secret admirer.

 

* * *

 

She’s in the hospital archives, looking over old case files, when Hinata comes rushing in to find her. Sakura has to work very hard not to react: Hinata is practically _glowing_ , eyes bright, that quiet smile wider than ever, and flushed, whether from the cold or from running or from blushing – and the scarf is wrapped around her neck. It looks better than Sakura had imagined it would.

 

“Hinata-chan!” she says, laying the case files down on the table and turning to face Hinata full-on. “What’s the occasion?”

 

Hinata pulls the scarf off in one smooth movement, holds it out to her. “Sakura-chan,” she says in an excited whisper, “this morning a messenger hawk brought me a parcel, and this was in it!” She still sounds vaguely confused by the whole affair, but there’s more joy than uncertainty in her tone, and Sakura has to fight not to start smiling like a besotted fool.

 

“No way!” she says, instead of squealing (her first impulse). “It’s so pretty! Do you think it’s from the same person who sent the flowers?”

 

Hinata nods eagerly. “Because it has cherry blossom on it,” she says, “and it came with a little card that said” – the blush that comes over her face now rivals any Sakura has ever seen on her for intensity, and she pauses as if embarrassed – “‘to the sweetest person I know’.”

 

Ah, so the card was a good touch, then. Sakura did her best to make her handwriting as anonymous as possible. “That’s so great, Hinata-chan!” she says. “But you still don’t know who it is?” She prays: _please, please let her have guessed right_ …and then thinks that might be asking too much, and maybe she should just pray Hinata hasn’t guessed wrong, instead.

 

Hinata shakes her head. Sakura isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not. That pale pink – like the flowers on the scarf – is creeping over her cheeks again: Sakura wonders who she’s thinking of.

 

“They’re really pushing the cherry blossom motif, don’t you think?” she says, as casually as she can.

 

Hinata’s eyes turn distant and sad, and _bad move, Sakura. Seriously bad move._ “Yes, and I can’t help thinking there’s a double meaning,” Hinata says, eyes downcast, fixed on the scarf in her hands. “I know you said it wasn’t likely, last time, but still, I can’t help wondering if it’s someone who thinks they might be going on a mission they won’t come back from. I can’t see any other reason for it.”

 

 _Shit, shit, shit_ … “I see what you’re saying, but I really don’t think they’d be going about it this way, if that’s what they meant,” Sakura says, trying to sound convincing. “It’d just be cruel to make you think that without telling you who it was. Maybe they just mean – we’re ninja, right? We never know how much time we have left, so we might as well seize the moment.” Yes, good, that might not have been what she meant but at least it ought to keep Hinata from thinking about prospective suitors on suicide missions. “Or maybe it’s another meaning altogether.”

 

Hinata looks relieved. “That makes more sense,” she agrees. “And it _is_ a lovely scarf, leaving its meaning aside.” She tucks it around her neck again. “And so warm!”

 

Sakura by all rights ought to be feeling frustrated right about now, but looking at Hinata swathed in the scarf, cherry blossom around her neck and a smile on her face, she can only feel a helpless rush of affection.

 

* * *

 

Sakura, sitting in the back of the flower shop, throws another twisted-up ball of paper into the bin, through two hoops Ino has constructed out of spare branches. Next sheet of paper. Twist, fold – re-fold, that wasn’t sharp enough – drag the nail along – and twist again –

 

The shape is too clumsy. “Fuck,” Sakura mutters, and sends it spinning through the air and the two hoops, straight into the bin, smooth and precise. “Yes!” She punches the air lazily.

 

“You are _disgusting_ ,” Ino comments drily. “No-one should be this happy in front of their single friends – especially when _you yourself are still single._ ”

 

“Deal with it,” Sakura says, carefree and triumphant with it, and takes up the next sheet of paper. This one goes better, and soon enough she has a delicate-looking but sturdy flower to sit along the three she has already made. “Ha! Not too many to go now.”

 

“If you’re not doing much more than that, this is going to be a pretty miserly show of affection,” Ino remarks. “No, but seriously, Sakura, you haven’t confessed, she still hasn’t guessed it’s you, and you’ve been sitting here trying to make cherry blossom out of paper for at least an hour. What gives?”

 

Sakura shrugs. “She really liked the scarf. I mean, really – you should have seen her face. And even if she didn’t guess it was me, she obviously feels close enough to me to come straight to me and tell me all about it. That’s more than enough.”

 

“Seriously?” Ino snatches the paper out of Sakura’s hands, adjusts a fold. “Jeez, no wonder it’s taking you this long, that’s just _careless_ ,” she adds in an aside under her breath.

 

Sakura grabs her wrist. “Seriously.” The intensity of her own voice surprises her. She smiles, and lightens her tone. “I mean, come on, it’s _Hinata_.”

 

“Fair enough,” Ino agrees, handing back the paper. To Sakura’s chagrin, the adjustment she made actually has helped, giving it a graceful, cohesive look to replace the awkwardness of its previous shape. “So what’s the plan with these? What, are you going to rig her house or something?”

 

“No thanks, I’m not looking to be interrogated by a posse of angry Hyuuga,” Sakura replies, shuddering. “These are going in her work locker. Easier to break into.”

 

“Breaking into her locker now, are we?” Ino grins, not entirely kindly. “You know, that might be considered a breach of trust.”

 

“Weren’t you the one who was telling me just the other day about Genma and his pranks?” Sakura replies cheerfully. “No-one seems to consider it a breach of trust when _he_ breaks into their lockers, and he usually puts the foulest-smelling stuff he can find in there. Or worse.”

 

Ino takes Sakura’s latest failed attempt and sends it sailing through the hoops into the bin. “Oh, no, it’s still a breach of trust. They just like him enough not to kill him for it.”

 

“Then I guess I’d better hope Hinata likes me,” Sakura says ruefully, picking up the next piece of paper. “You know, I still can’t believe it’s just Genma behind those. He has to be getting help from someone. Maybe there’s a mysterious mastermind behind it all.”

 

“Maybe it’s Iruka-sensei,” Ino deadpans, and Sakura giggles, adding another flower to the small cluster on the table.

 

She breaks into Hinata’s locker that night – it’s not exactly difficult: no ninja keeps anything important in their work locker (as a precaution against Genma if nothing else), so security is low, leaving Sakura just a combination lock to get through, plus whatever extra protections Hinata has on the inside. Most ninja don’t bother with anything extra. Evidently, neither does Hinata, for which Sakura thanks her lucky stars before rigging it with the adapted trap that will release the painstakingly-made paper flowers. She makes sure to leave her favourite headband (any medic-nin with a hairstyle longer than a pixie cut needs one, and this one is old and worn, cherished by Sakura as a reminder of days gone by – also, by now it’s a nondescript colour that doesn’t show the dirt) in her own locker, to give herself an excuse to drop by when Hinata does.

 

Her not-entirely-legal research into Hinata’s upcoming missions pays off: the next morning Hinata does drop by her locker to pick something up, and Sakura is right next to her when a shower of paper cherry blossom scatters down over her head the moment she opens the door.

 

Hinata’s delighted laugh might be the best thing Sakura has ever heard.

 

“Sakura-chan, look!” she says, with no hesitance in her voice for a chance, high on the sudden joy, her eyes like stars. She holds out a few of the paper flowers, caught in her cupped hands. “It must be from the same person!” Sakura doesn’t bother trying to make her smile look surprised, letting her relief and happiness show clearly on her face. The more clues she gives Hinata, the better. For a moment, seeing her smile, Hinata turns pink, and there’s something of that same look, like she wants to say something and doesn’t know how; then she turns and bends over to pick up the rest of the flowers, tucking them carefully into the bag she has with her before leaving it in her locker.

 

It occurs to Sakura that they might actually be getting somewhere – that look seemed significant – but she’s so pleased by Hinata’s reaction that for a moment or two she doesn’t even care what it means for her long-term plan.

 

* * *

 

She takes the next step in her plan without consulting Ino: for some reason this part of it seems peculiarly private. On a quiet afternoon, she makes her way to a small, discreet jeweller’s on the civilian side of town. Ex-ninja artisans are all very well, but they’re also part of the ninja grapevine, and besides, nothing beats civilian skill when it comes to craftsmanship. It’s lucky she took that A-rank mission a month ago. She’s going to have to fork out quite a bit for this.

 

She spends at least a quarter of an hour in frustrated browsing, torn between three options – equally good, equally not quite what she’s looking for – before she sees _it_ and seriously considers whether Neji might have been right, all those years ago, about fate. (Thinking Neji might have been right is not particularly comfortable, and she dismisses the thought in short order, but the point is that she actually took a moment to think it in the first place.)

 

It’s pink, but so pale it might as well be white, and it shines like mother-of-pearl. Its delicate stamens gleam golden in the light; each petal is lined with gold, veined with a paler gold still. Hand-enamelled and plated with gold – she was right to expect to pay more than she normally would, this is going to seriously cost her, but it’ll be worth it to see Hinata wearing cherry blossom as a brooch. Keeping the almost embarrassing enthusiasm out of her voice, talking to the shopkeeper, takes all the self-control she’s amassed over the past several years.

 

Walking home, it occurs to her that she doesn’t really care if this doesn’t work, as a gesture. She still wants Hinata to have the brooch. It feels like an echo of the moment, months ago, when she thought: _this feeling has turned into something a lot bigger than I expected_.

 

There’s no way she’s putting this in Hinata’s work locker. Back at home, she wraps it up in about five layers of the thickest brown paper she can find before sliding it into a parcel and taping it up until it’s harder to get into than the highest clearance level of T & I. Then it’s back towards the Hokage building, to seek the use of a messenger hawk again.

 

The next day, she’s getting warmed up with some basic chakra control exercises, in a back room at the hospital, when she feels a release of chakra somewhere near her. That’s all the warning she gets before – as she whirls around to see who it is – Hinata appears in the doorway in a puff of smoke. The brooch gleams on her right shoulder.

 

“Sakura-chan!” She’s smiling, even though she looks harried. “I have to go – there’s a mission, I won’t be back for two weeks – but I, I just wanted to show you this!” She’s pointing to the brooch, but she doesn’t need to, Sakura’s eyes are drawn to it anyway. God. It looks so good on her. Sakura feels the blood rushing to her cheeks, and why now, why _now_ – she fights the blush reflex back down. Medic-nin’s trick. She’s never been gladder of her training.

 

“It’s so pretty!” she says. “It’s from the same person, right? They must really like you!”

 

Hinata, not privy to the trick Sakura just used, blushes. Sakura thinks it’s entirely unfair that after seeing the blush so many times she’s still not immune to the effect it has. “I – I suppose so,” Hinata agrees. “You were right, they are pushing the cherry blossom motif. I wish I knew who it was, and what they mean by it.” That last is shy, hesitant, but audible, at least.

 

Sakura can only shrug. “Maybe you’re overthinking it.” Will that be enough of a clue? Or should she be more direct about it?

 

“Maybe,” Hinata says, while Sakura’s still groping for words, and the blush is still there, and there’s that slightly pleading look again. “Sakura-chan, I have to go now, my team’s leaving – I just wanted to talk to you first. I’ll – see you when I get back?”

 

“Of course,” Sakura says quickly, the words slipping out all too easily, and then before Sakura can say anything more, there’s a puff of smoke and Hinata is gone.

 

Sakura collapses against the table, beaming like a fool, pressing one hand to her mouth, completely at a loss for how to feel because Hinata just used Shunshin because _she wanted to see Sakura before she left_ , and gave her that look again that makes Sakura wonder helplessly if she’s guessed after all, and now she won’t be back for two weeks. And she was wearing the brooch. Sakura sinks down into a chair and lets the breathless giggles flow out.

 

* * *

 

Over the next two weeks she proves an irritation to pretty much everyone who knows her. Tsunade is patient with her to an extent, but patience lasts only so long and soon Sakura is getting the most unpleasant chores Tsunade can give to a medic of her standing. She doesn’t really mind: it keeps her busy and fits her mood most of the time. She takes to pacing around the flower shop – full of restless energy – throwing dark looks at all and sundry, and complaining to Ino until eventually Ino conscripts her to help out. At one of their generation’s group dinners, someone attempts to make a PMS joke and Naruto’s timely intervention (which consists of kicking him really hard in the shin before he can get to the end of his sentence) is the only thing that keeps Sakura from ensuring the unfortunate joker never has children. As it is she settles for inconspicuously nudging him so that he stubs his toe on the way out.

 

She misses Hinata. And all the while Hinata’s away, she’s wondering if the secret admirer gifts were the wrong tack to take, if maybe she should have just confessed straight out. She can’t regret seeing those smiles break over Hinata’s face, and yet, at the same time – it would have been simpler to confess. Why did she start this whole convoluted thing? To give Hinata a hint so that she could gently brush Sakura off if she wasn’t interested? And instead she ended up with a very confused Hinata and no idea, _still_ , if Hinata’s interested or not. And now Hinata won’t be back for two weeks and Sakura misses her and it’s making her want to take her frustration out on – something. Human beings, preferably, but that’s not an option. (Every training ground she’s used for the last several days is now conspicuously freer of trees than it was before.)

 

“Stop _moping_ ,” Ino advises bluntly, towards the end of the first week. “You can confess to her when she gets back. And it’s no use worrying about what you should have done; it’s not like you can take the gifts back, so unless you’ve discovered a working method of time-travel, what’s done is done.”

 

“Somehow,” Sakura snaps, from where she’s putting the new arrivals on display in the shop, “being aware of all of that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

 

“Woooow,” Ino drawls, and throws a discarded stem at Sakura’s head. Sakura leaves the display to retaliate, and her frustration is forgotten, for a while.

 

Neji’s been throwing Sakura weird looks, too, and that’s irritating as all hell. Where does he get off giving her suspicious looks – what, did he forget the way _he_ used to treat Hinata? At least Sakura’s never treated her with anything but kindness. Neji can fuck _off_. Sakura refrains from telling him as much, because beneath her irritation she knows he really has been making an effort to reconnect with Hinata over the last few years, and because she’s not going to win any points with Hinata by getting into fights with Hinata’s beloved cousin.

 

Halfway through the second week, news comes in from Hinata’s team and Sakura, hearing of it, speeds into the Hokage’s office. Tsunade throws her a wry look before reading out that they’ve identified the location of the bandits’ main base, they’ll be back a day or so earlier than planned, and they advise that a larger force will be needed for the eventual confrontation. Sakura sags against Tsunade’s desk, relief taking precedence over embarrassment, and feels a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

 

Tsunade looks at her, enigmatic. “So. Hyuuga Hinata, is it?”

 

Sakura nods. It’s not a great leap to make: Tsunade knows full well there’s no way Sakura would go for anyone else on that team, and if anyone’s been around to see the beginning of that crush, she has.

 

Tsunade lets out a huff of breath. “Well,” she says. “At least your taste’s improved.” Just as Sakura is about to leave, she adds: “I wish you better luck than I had.”

 

Sakura thanks her, feeling a little subdued – but that feeling is soon overcome by sheer elation, because _Hinata is getting back soon_.

 

* * *

 

She happens to be in the office when Hinata and her team report back. Theoretically, she should be keeping her head down and getting her paperwork done, but instead her eyes are fixed on Hinata the whole time. Hinata’s eyes flicker over to her, take on a disconcerted look: Sakura smiles back as well as she knows how, not bothering to try to conceal the warmth and lightness she feels upon seeing Hinata return. Hinata’s lips twitch in an answering smile, and – is that – there’s the faintest hint of pink in her cheeks, and Sakura can’t tell if she’s blushing or not.

 

“Hinata-chan!” she calls over – casually, they’re in public – when Hinata’s team is at the door on the point of leaving. “What do you say to some coffee, when you’re completely done with debrief?”

 

“That would be nice,” Hinata replies, as her team turn to look back at the two of them. “I don’t know when I’ll be done –” She sounds worried. Always afraid of giving others trouble. Sakura wishes she could convince Hinata it’s never trouble…well. Maybe later. 

 

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “I’ll be at the usual place, come find me when you’re done.”

 

Hinata turns out to have been somewhat in the right, though, and it’s just a good thing Sakura brought her paperwork, because after an hour of waiting there’s still no sign of her. Sakura leaves the shop for about two minutes to buy herself a trashy romance novel, and spends the next hour annotating it with a sarcastic running commentary. She’s just reached a scene with what has to be some of the most badly-written dialogue she’s ever read when the door of the shop swings open and Hinata peers in.

 

Sakura gestures her over to her table, and Hinata sinks into a chair with a tiny sigh of relief. “Sakura-chan, you waited,” she says softly, as if she’s surprised, and _oh_ , that shouldn’t send an ache – and does it hurt, or feel good? – through Sakura like that.

 

“Didn’t I say I would?” she replies, and orders two more coffees, one for each of them.

 

They exchange small talk, and it doesn’t feel awkward or stilted, just gentle. Hinata seems a little tired for anything more, although she perks up the further they get into the conversation, and besides, Sakura’s resolve is so uppermost in her mind that small talk is all she’s got room for beside it. Besides, she’s more tired than she’d thought, something that occurs to her when they both break into quiet, hysterical laughter over something trivial for about the third time.

 

Eventually the conversation comes to a natural halt: Sakura seizes the opportunity. “Hinata-chan,” she says, quietly, “I’ll understand if you’re too tired right now, but – can I talk to you somewhere private?”

 

Hinata lifts her head very quickly from what appears to be a detailed study of her coffee, but doesn’t let her surprise show for long, ever polite. “Sure,” she says. Is it Sakura’s imagination that her voice grew just a little quieter when she said that? “But – I’m afraid my rooms aren’t very private – where were you thinking of going?” Of course, there’s no privacy in the Hyuuga compound. Sakura revises her previous idea (she’d hoped Hinata might be more comfortable on home ground).

 

“How about…” She thinks, and then it comes to her. “How about your usual training ground, if there’s no-one around?” The only people likely to be around the training grounds are those using them – no-one wants to risk being on the receiving end of a technique a ninja hasn’t quite mastered.

 

Hinata nods: they make their way there slowly, in the fading light. More of the trees are in bloom now, the breeze ruffling the blossom. The air is cool. It feels like coming full circle.

 

“So,” Sakura says. Takes a deep breath. “So,” she says again. She decided she’d say this, she’s been waiting two weeks to say this, why won’t the words come out?

 

She takes another slow breath. Hinata looks nervous, and that goads her into speech. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

 

Silence.

 

“I was the one who sent you those things.” It comes out fast, but not garbled. Thank God. She doesn’t think she could say it again if she tried.

 

And oh, she can see that hopeful light leaving Hinata’s eyes, she can see her face fall and oh God, it’s all going wrong –

 

“Why?” Hinata murmurs, and it’s so very clear – so unbearably clear – that she expects the answer to be: _Out of pity_.

 

Sakura takes another breath, straightens her back. Feels a strange, rooted kind of strength holding her up, so that she can speak easily. “Because I like you,” she says, as clearly as she can. “Not the way a friend likes a friend” – she adds this quickly, she has to make _sure_ Hinata gets it – “I like you the way I used to like Sasuke. Only it’s better, with you.”

 

“Like –” Hinata blushes, and Sakura wants to reach out, wants to cup her cheek and feel that blush under her fingers. “Like a lover?”

 

Sakura nods firmly, a contrast to the shaky butterfly feeling in her stomach. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

 

It’s fascinating: she can _see_ as all the gifts are finally connected with her, in Hinata’s mind, as it all finally slots into place and –

 

and the most honestly startled and vulnerable and _delighted_ look comes over her face.

 

“You really had no idea?” Sakura says – whispers, more like. It doesn’t feel right to speak loudly.

 

Hinata shakes her head. “I – sometimes I just wondered, because of all the cherry blossom, and I – I liked the thought – but I never seriously thought…”  She’s smiling, the same way she smiled when she got the flowers, but more. Like there’s a secret she’s holding to her heart, warm and bright. “It’s – really better than liking Sasuke?”

 

Sakura lets out a sort of relieved half-laugh of a breath. “So much better.”

 

Hinata’s smile grows even wider, and her eyes are full of soft wonder, and it suddenly becomes very, very urgent indeed for Sakura to kiss her, and – oh god. The way Hinata shivers at the press of mouths, the way she moves against Sakura – just a little, just – like a shudder is running all through her – and her hands, those strong deft hands, that come up to cling at the fabric of Sakura’s tunic – the tiny noise she makes – Sakura’s mind is blank, is white light –

 

They break apart for a moment. Cherry blossom scatters around them. “It’s like something out of a shoujo manga,” Hinata says, with the hint of a laugh in her voice, and they kiss and kiss and kiss again as the blossom falls.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot twist is Iruka was the mastermind the WHOLE TIME
> 
> if any of the flower meanings are wrong please let me know


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hinata, exhausted, comes back to Sakura, and home. (The two may or may not be synonymous at this point.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue brought on by not enough sleep.

 

When Hinata has to fumble for her keys outside the door of her apartment, it brings home just how tired she is. She’s a ninja, and a _Hyuuga_ , precision is supposed to be what she’s good at – she cuts that thought off as the key turns in the lock, telling herself, _you’re tired and you just completed an A-rank and on top of that you’re getting the bounty for the missing-nin you disposed of in the process. You don’t need to worry about precision. If you really want to improve it you can train in the morning_.

 

(She’s learned to take that tone with herself. It sounds a bit like Kurenai-sensei and a bit like Sakura-chan, and perhaps even a little like the mother she can barely remember, the warm voice that calmed her when her father’s disapproval sent her into fits of silent tears – but most of all it sounds like herself, like the small quiet stubborn part of herself that has never consented to the way others have made her feel.)

 

Still, she _is_ tired, and exhaustion has a tendency to leave her feeling melancholy if she’s not careful. She stumbles into the apartment, locking the door behind her, and takes her shoes off on autopilot. The moment her bare feet sink into the carpet she feels as if she could just stand there forever and never move again. “I’m home,” she calls, unable to muster the energy to raise her voice.

 

Around fellow ninja she doesn’t have to raise her voice. “Welcome back,” Sakura says, coming out of – the bathroom? – in a half-run to meet her. Gentle, skilled hands come up to cup Hinata’s face, and Hinata closes her eyes in relief as their lips meet. Sakura’s kisses can be intense, sometimes, but at other times they’re just like this one: tender, undemanding, reassuring. Closeness.

 

“How did it go?” Sakura murmurs.

 

Hinata shrugs, looking down for a moment. “It was all right.” She really doesn’t feel like talking about it right now: it was gruelling, even if it did go well, and it’s all still too fresh in her mind.

 

Sakura picks up on this, just like she always does. “Come on,” she says, instead of asking further. “I’ve run you a bath.”

 

Hinata sincerely regrets not having the energy to thank her profusely: as it is, all she can manage is a sort of incoherent thank-you noise, and then a long groan of satisfaction, as she sinks into the warm water. She can feel muscles begin to relax that she didn’t even know were tense. Her eyes seem to close of their own accord.

 

When she opens them, Sakura is still there, sitting cross-legged and balancing a makeshift desk of books on her lap, on which to do her paperwork. Hinata blinks. “You’re still here?” she mumbles, too tired to attempt politeness.

 

Sakura laughs, unoffended. “I don’t want you falling asleep in the bath!” That’s a fair point. Hinata feels as though she could, any second. “Besides,” and here Sakura’s eyes turn warm and oh god Hinata can _feel_ the blush coming on, “you just got back, and I like spending time with you.”

 

Hinata can’t think of anything to say to that, so she sends a tired smile over Sakura’s way and relaxes into the bath. They both sit quietly for a while, Hinata letting the tension drain out of her, lulled by the warmth and the sense of closeness and the sound of Sakura’s pen scratching on the paper. She’s always got paperwork to do. That’s the price of being a top medic at the hospital and the Hokage’s trusted apprentice, Hinata supposes. Occasionally Sakura complains about it, but never to the extent that most other ninja seem to. Hinata thinks maybe she finds it sort of satisfying. Tedious, but it needs a little intellectual output, and it’s something to do. Sakura likes that sort of thing: she’s told Hinata it’s partly why she got such good grades in maths at the Academy.

 

She doesn’t _mean_ to start dozing off, really… but suddenly she feels Sakura’s hands on her shoulders, and Sakura is saying, “Hinata-chan, you should know better than to fall asleep in the bath,” in a voice full of amusement and affection, and Sakura is helping her out of the bath. “You’re half-asleep on your feet,” and oh, she feels the towel rough-soft against her skin and Sakura is drying her off, gently but efficiently, and. And this. This is what she comes back to, this sense of warmth and welcome and _home_.

 

She stands there blankly as Sakura leaves the room for a moment, catches the pyjamas thrown at her on instinct. She’s so tired that it’s only some half-forgotten, dragged-up muscle memory that allows her to put them on. At Sakura’s soft prompting, a hand pushing at her shoulder, she stumbles into the bedroom and sort of quietly collapses onto the bed. _Oh_ , she thinks, _Sakura-chan changed the sheets_. The feeling of the fresh clean sheets against her still slightly-damp skin is… somehow it’s incredibly comforting.

 

She blinks up at Sakura. “You’re staying up?”

 

“I have to finish this paperwork before tomorrow,” Sakura says ruefully. She smiles. “I’ll come to bed soon, don’t worry.”  Hinata smiles back: she knows Sakura is aware of how much Hinata worries about her lack of sleep.

 

One goodnight kiss – chaste, lingering – and Hinata is closing her eyes, and falling into the warm dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wanted happy bathtime and soft beds for my ninja ladies SO SUE ME


End file.
